


The Elder Scribbles: Dear Fourth Wall

by Mr_Skurleton



Series: Just Shout at it [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor, Letters, Sass, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:12:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15694371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Skurleton/pseuds/Mr_Skurleton
Summary: A look into some of the other messages those couriers are carrying around. Letters written to and from a whole host of different characters with all manner of bizarre situations included. For amusement purposes only. Rated T to be on the safe side.





	1. Dear cowardly dragon,

**Author's Note:**

> Figured I should upload these here as well seeing as I've returned to writing for the fandom.

Dear cowardly dragon,

I know you were likely frightened, your heart thudding at the realization that the world eater’s conqueror had set his eyes upon you and had already loosed many an arrow in your general direction before readying a shout that no dragon ever wants to experience. I understand… really I do, however, you might consider these things are likely to happen when you land in front of him, devour his horse, knock his companion off of the cliff side and set fire to his eyebrows. Which I’ll have you know have yet to grow back, and I have a sneaking feeling that people are beginning to suspect that the soot smudges I’ve used as substitutions are in fact not really my eyebrows. 

Anyway yes, yes, I am aware that you are a dragon, I get it, it is not your fault that you can’t speak without lighting something on fire or smashing it to pieces. All I’m saying is that you can’t be surprised when these actions you seem to take such pleasure in performing, get a less than chipper reaction from well frankly everyone you come across. And can you really say that flying off into outer space with your wings covering your face in the oddest fashion… seriously doesn’t that hurt at all to do that? That couldn’t have been comfortable… I could see your bones sticking through the membrane… Anyway… can you say that was the better choice?

I mean yes, it was true that I was going to jump atop your head with a sharp pointy thing and then proceed to stab you in the face with said sharp pointy thing until you shut up and well… ceased to be alive. All in the hopes that upon your death I could suck your soul out of you and maybe learn a word of your language in the process. However, I am hard pressed to see how flying directly into the sun makes for a better demise. You’re a dragon after all, it’s not as if you need to work on your tan or something. And even if that were the case, you soaked up enough rays in those first few seconds to last several lifetimes. One would think the sunburn alone would make one long to be stabbed repeatedly in the face instead. 

But I digress, all in all I hope you’re pleased with yourself. Robbing me of my prize and my means of transportation so I had to ride all the way back to Solitude on my companion’s shoulders. All while listening to her endless whining about burdens and broken bones from falling halfway down a mountain. I hope you find outer space to be incredibly dull and completely devoid of conversation, air, and aloe vera.

Yours truly,  
The Dragonborn.


	2. Dear Maven Black-Briar,

Dear Maven Black-Briar,

I doubt you will recall my face, which I suppose is just as well for my purposes. I write to you only to assuage some rather grievous errors in the assumptions you seem to be harboring.

First, your threats to those who 'cross you', idle as they are, are something of an affront. You see the name of my organization is not yours to throw out on your whim. And I feel I should inform you now that whatever arrangement you might have once had with my predecessor is no longer valid. Consider it 'Void' if you will.

And unless you honestly wish to meet, in some darkened alley where there will be no witnesses to even remark on your passing, I suggest you find some other group to sully with your association.

Or perhaps your rooms would be a preferred meeting locale? I assure you some place will present itself if you prove foolish enough to continue.

Secondly, I advise you to think very carefully about your position as Jarl. It is after all a chaotic time in Skyrim, a time of upheaval and unrest. What a shame it would be for something tragic to befall Riften's newly crowned Jarl simply because she began sticking her crooked nose where it was most unwelcomed. Would you not agree?

No longer tolerating you,

The Listener.

P.S. I have taken it upon myself to relieve you of that so called bodyguard you hired. Seeing as he was so easy to dispatch you may want to reevaluate your hiring practices in the future.


	3. Dear Maven Reprise ~SoulStealer1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This lovely letter brought to you by SoulStealer1987 go give them some love yo.

Dear Maven Black-Briar,

Kindly fuck off. Mercer Frey may have been kissing your smug arse six ways to Sundas, but Mercer Frey is two things that I am not. One, he’s a traitor to the Guild. Two, he’s very, very, dead.

Unlike him, I prefer not to resort to killing. I suppose I could make an exception for you, of course, or perhaps I won’t need to. I hear you’ve been having some issues with the Dark Brotherhood?

Sincerely done with your shit,   
The Guildmaster


	4. Dear Resident of Breezehome

Dear Resident of Breezehome,

I have stolen all of your sweet rolls. Do not attempt to reclaim them. Do not attempt to alert the guard.

Sufficiently satisfied,

The Sweet roll bandit.


	5. Dear Housecarl

Dear Housecarl,

I know you think it was cute, stealing all my sweet rolls and then eating them while sitting in my bedroom watching me try to sleep. And that note you wrote? Hilarious really. In fact it was so funny that just to prove how funny I thought it was, I've decided to let you carry all two hundred of these dragon bones all the way back to Whiterun.

Why you ask, would I require you to carry almost a complete dragon skeleton on your back all the way from Windhelm? Because my dear Lydia, because.

Also I'm thinking about stringing them up in front of my door. That should keep that brat Braith from hovering like a hooligan out there in the mornings. Just waiting to ruin a perfectly good day with the grate of her aggravating little voice.

Sincerely,

Your Thane.

P.S. You do know that your chewing keeps me up at night right? And that you have your own room you could be stuffing your face in?


	6. Dear Shadowmere

Dear Shadowmere,

I know reading this may be difficult, given the being a horse thing. But I feel like when I speak to you my words just aren't getting through anymore.

I think I reached that epiphany last Morndas when we traveled to Leyawiin to fulfill the task that Sanguine had given me. Imagine my surprise when after casting that most peculiar spell and being stripped of everything I'd been carrying, I ran past very angry guards only to find my trusted steed no where in sight.

I thought for sure you'd been eaten by a daedroth. And of course I was overwhelmed with…. something… to find you perfectly safe and sound afterwards… all the way back at Fort Farragut three weeks later.

Do you have any idea how long of a trek it is from Leyawiin all the way to Sanguine's shrine? WITHOUT SHOES NO LESS!

I hope you'll understand that this will seriously affect your ration of apples for the next few months. You'll have to make due I suppose.

And by make due, I do not mean eating the chickens of every farmer we pass. Those little snacks are quite costly when all is said and done and we both know you end up coughing up feathers for days afterwards anyways.

~ Still unamused,

The Listener


	7. Dear Dread Father

Dear Dread Father,  
  


It is I, your humble servant Lucien.

It has been three months and six days since I was summoned back to Nirn in order to aid the Listener and I humbly request that I be called back to the void. The things I have seen…

 

~Wishing only for the darkness to wash away it all,

Lucien LaChance.


	8. Dear Champion

Dear Champion,

 

I’m worried about you. When you asked me to find you a head of lettuce, a soul gem and a skein of yarn I didn’t think much of it. After all, it’s not really a maid’s place to question the eating habits or art projects of the man who saved us all from a daedric invasion. But that being said, when you returned smelling of burnt fur, twirling a morbid looking walking stick and cackling like a mad man... well, I must admit you frightened me.

I would have written it off as just another peculiar occurrence, seeing as there have been no shortage of them since I came to live with you. But then you and your walking stick disappeared again and no one saw hide nor hair of you for months. Normally when you go off on one of your adventures I at least get some news from passing Legionnaires or read about it in the Black Horse Courier. But this time nothing. 

Then the next thing I know I’m waking up in the middle of the night to the most horrid racket only to find you in the midst of the kitchen with a chicken under one arm, covered in flour and dancing a jig around a wheel of cheese while four foul smelling scamps played all our pots and pans like drums. How you didn’t wake the neighbors I’ll never know.

It wouldn’t be so bad really, I suppose owning a pet or two. But why does it have to be scamps? All they do is chew on the chairs and hiss at me while I’m trying to dust. I’m reasonably sure one of them ate my broom too. I keep finding regurgitated straw on the carpet.

And if that weren’t enough, that chicken you’ve also adopted keeps trying to roost in the cabinets. It worries me, sometimes I swear it’s scheming something… always staring at me as if I’m planning to cook it at any moment. Pretty paranoid for a bird if you ask me. And I wish you’d stop calling it Glarthir. That poor sod didn’t disappear all that long ago you know, and the guard still aren’t sure if he’s even still alive. It feels disrespectful to name such an irritating bird after him.

 

~Deeply concerned for you

Eyja. 


End file.
